


Beneath The Floorboards

by Mr_Waterworks



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: 2nd person POV, Churches, Drabble, Hurt, Multi, lowkey polyamory, on the floor contemplating life at two in the morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 14:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11420064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Waterworks/pseuds/Mr_Waterworks
Summary: Jesse leaves the group chat for literally five minutes and I cannot write Preacher fanfics to save my life and ePISODE THREE WONT LOAD GODDAMMIT





	Beneath The Floorboards

  
"Jesus, can you imagine how many cobwebs must be up there on that ceiling?"

"I don't think anyone's tall enough to clean it." You reply, lips pursed and your hands folded over your stomach, one finger busily drumming away.

You resist turning your head to look at the resident dumbass bloodsucker who is lying next to you, on the floor, higher than the ceiling you're both staring at. You had walked in a few minutes ago, bloody from an accident (you wouldn't go into detail, but the jackass had it coming).

"With you, everyone has it coming." Cassidy had smirked, and you had replied with a not too gentle kick to his side.

You had looked around you at the blue darkness of the church at two AM and scoffed before deciding to join your acquaintance on the hardwood floor. You had nothing better to do, except for maybe to clean your shirt, but hey it was old and ugly anyway.

And now you're here, counting cobwebs and wondering every so often if Cassidy had fallen asleep. He always proves your suspicion wrong by saying something stupid, and you are somewhat grateful for the company.

You're becoming better acquainted with All Saints Congressional's worn and eaten floorboards and you wonder why you've never laid here before. Maybe it was because when you were so little, you didn't give two shits about this church let alone the floor, or maybe because Jesse's father would have told you in that calm but slightly scary voice to get off the floor and run along, or maybe just because getting to know the floor didn't seem all that important.

 It wouldn't have been, amidst dealing with your lump of an uncle, the constant fear of losing your best friend, and just maybe your mother's absence, but you were never really sure about that one. You still aren't very sure about anything right now other than a desire for revenge and the recent want to have your stupid boyfriend back in your arms (and maybe your pants, but that's  for later). 

You run one hand through your thick black curls, and another across the floor, your fingers barely grazing Cassidy's sleeve. The floor seems to listen to you, and somewhere deep in the dirt beneath it, among the rocks and roots and bones of relocated Native Americans, you think you're understood.

You smirk to yourself. Jesse doesn't completely understand you, and Cassidy sure as hell doesn't. Your mom wouldn't, Walter doesn't, John Custer didn't, and God himself never will. No one really knows why you do the things you do. Not even you. Only the dirt. You like to think that you're dirt sometimes, and maybe that's why the dirt seems so empathetic right now.

It takes one to know one, you think gravely.

"What're you thinkin' about, love?"

"I ain't thinking about anything." You reply, shrugging and folding your arms over your chest. You cross your legs nonchalantly, and turn to look at Cassidy, who's staring at you with raised eyebrows.

His lips twist a little and he looks concerned, but he keeps his mouth shut for once, and looks back up at the ceiling. You inhale, feeling only a little bad for him.

"Well what are _you_ thinking about, huh?" You ask. A half assed extension of friendship so the poor bastard doesn't get too lonely. 

"I don't know what I'm thinking about anymore really." He mutters to no-one in particular. "Nights like this, yknow...not even sure if I think at all."

You nod slowly. Sure, you get that. Whatever.

There are a few moments of undisturbed silence before the doors of the church creak and groan as another sinner pushes them open. You hear only a few footsteps before the visitor catches his breath and then after a split second, exhales, tired exasperation in his voice.

You don't look up to see who it is. You fold your arms behind your head and smile up into the plaster on the ceiling.

"Oh hey, Pardre, come to join the party?" Cassidy crows, weakly chuckling.

"The hell are you two doing in here?" Jesse asks, not even angry. Just tired. Very tired.

"It's two o' clock in the bloody mornin', maybe some of us had some reevaluation of life choices to do." You let Cass do the talking and set your jaw. "Nothin' to be ashamed of Jesse, just a tortured soul with an erratic and irregular sleep pattern just like the rest of us, aye?"

Jesse barely pays him any mind and pops into your frame of view, looking down at you with a furrowed brow and lips pressed into a harsh line like they always are nowadays. You jerk your head in a nod with a sudden smirk on your face.

"Hey stranger." You greet him. One corner of his lips goes up ever so slightly and he shakes his head at you. "Your ceiling needs cleaning."

He chuckles feebly before actually taking a look up at it. "Does it?"

You pat the sympathetic floorboards next to you, and nod at him. "You can see it better from down here."

Jesse stands for a minute, his shoulders looking heavy and the bags under his eyes unusually prominent in the just-barely moonlight through the stained glass windows. He sighs before getting down and fitting himself onto the floor between you and Cassidy (he grunts and scoots over a little). You turn to look at him as he gently lays his head down and closes his eyes for a moment. He opens them again, probably unaware that yours are fixed on him and that your jaw is clenched tightly shut. 

You almost flinch when you feel his hand reach over to gently grab yours. You let a quiet, shaky breath come out through your nose as your jaw relaxes and your shoulders drop to the floor.

"Jesus, that's a lot of cobwebs."

You smile. Cassidy chuckles. Jesse glances at you for a moment. You reach over with your other hand to feel the floorboards beneath you and the dust that sometimes comes up between the cracks. 

You breathe.

No one really knows why a vampire, a preacher, and a hotheaded, cold blooded killer are lying on the floor of the All Saint's Congressional church. 

No one really understands but the dirt beneath them.

And the three of you suppose that it just takes one to know one.


End file.
